Out and About in Bali

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Part 18
March 16 Payangan
Dogs bark, chickens cackle, geese squawk, water gurgles--the sounds of morning wake the four of us straining the spartan bed offered for the night. Thousands of tiny ants crawl along the windowsill, invited in perhaps by the windows opened to accommodate our Western penchant for fresh air and relief from the heat of the day. More than occasionally, one of these ants finds its way onto my exposed skin, perpetrating tiny bites that are their last living act once they are so easily identified.
This is definitely a different face of Bali than we see in Ubud, and probably even further from the beachfront facades adorning the tourist center of Kuta. Payangan is the village where we stayed for two weeks 15 years ago with our Interlocken students and helped build a school building (apparently still standing although hard for us to recognize in its current fine condition). We are guests of Gusti, our host back then, and we are being put up in his special new bungalow out back by the ravine. It is hard to know if this is the best of their housing or the worst (everyone who lives in this compound, like most, has their own building, so Gusti's sister and brother live in other houses closer to the road and family temple). Our bungalow is certainly spacious, with three bedrooms surrounding a good size living area and small kitchen and bathroom (complete with new bathtub, although in good Balinese tradition, not equipped with hot water). Outside of the movable carpet and the one chair (and our plywood bed), there is no other furniture and really no furnishings. Partly this is because this is new (started 3 years ago) and only infrequently used by Gusti and his family and maybe other guests. But, judging from the rest of the complex, with small bits of trash scattered around, the half paved badminton court, the still under construction pavilion, broken paving stones on the path...there is not the interest or finances or concern with immaculate appearances we are accustomed to in the West, and even in the restaurants and hotels of Ubud.
I must admit I have somewhat less tolerance for this non tourist living standards at this point. It is not like we stayed in such plush surroundings in Laos or Cambodia or even Thailand, but a week in the groomed idyll of Ketut's Place in Ubud, and the accumulation of months on the road, have somehow lessened my energy to experience living so close to the locals (or at least so close to the ants).
Payangan is a regular, working class Balinese village, where most people work in agriculture, and the few shops in town are small and unexceptional. Definitely a step above India in living standard, with better kept school buildings, nicer houses, absence of homelessness and beggars, much less dust and chaos, much better roads... But still, this is far from American standards of cleanliness and neatness. Even in Gusti's compound, plastic water cups are just thrown on the ground, little pieces of trash lie about, piles of rotting leaves sit off in corners. Balinese are known for their cleaning, and they do sweep the grounds (even the dirt) and use the plentiful water to wash down the concrete. But no one seems to notice, or have the interest, in meticulously picking up trash, or fighting the pesky mold, or worrying so much about appearance in any particular way. It is incredible to calculate the cost of the inherent neatness in the US, where even pretty well paid individuals devote a fair bit of time daily to general straightening up around the house (certain college students and other slackers excepted). The difference between a Hindu/Buddhist legacy and a Puritan one? Wealth versus poverty? Culture? Weather?
At the same time, everyone (literally) turns out for the temple festival immaculately dressed with colorful and artistic offerings atop the women's heads. Everything is color and pomp (although again, no one takes it all too seriously or looks askance at anyone who is less well dressed). We had forgotten how much these ceremonies involve lots of sitting around and waiting, even for the Balinese. But, this is a community event, and it is both expected that all will be there (even teens and kids) and it seems fairly enjoyable for folks to hang out together and chat (as well as listen to gamelan, do a few prayers, eat some temple snacks, and generally socialize with one's neighbors). For us, the temple festival involves a lot of guesswork, even with several locals willing to explain events in English (at which people are incredibly more adept than 15 years ago). Big monster statues made of sugar and rice, small origami sculptures made of palm leaf, food offerings that are ingeniously constructed and brought into the temple but then somehow are removed after the spirits sample their essence, crews of gamelan orchestras nattily attired in matching outfits, big flowing flags strung on tall bending bamboo, mask dances, shadow puppets...and this goes on for 2 weeks straight, and this is only one of a handful of temples in this village, and this is only one village of hundreds on the island. So these ceremonies, held every year at every family temple and every village temple continue to be a central part of community life, a constant reminder of ties to history and culture and tradition and community.

March 17 Toyabunkah
The ride up to Mt Batur took us over the winding roads of Bali. First a town of woodcarvers making meter high buddhas out of jackfruit wood (as well as hundreds of smaller dolphins, lizards, elephants, birds, cats, faces, and entwined bodies), then a town where everyone carves enormous Garuda eagles (the lavish 3 meter high ones rented for wedding ceremonies and such), then piles of elongated cats, then kites, then quilts, then a plantation growing coffee and cacao and assorted spices and fruits (where we finally broke down and purchased vanilla beans, cinnamon, and cloves, which we think are much more pricey at home). Eventually we reached the rim of the Batur crater, where you can look down at Lake Batur set beneath two old volcanic peaks guarding it on either side (as you avoid the persistent sellers of jewelry, small carvings, fruit, and sarongs).
We then dropped down the the lake, Toyabunkah, and Arlina's Losman, where we expected to see our old friend Nyoman Ardana who helped guide our trip here years ago. To our surprise, Arlina's had moved from its choice lakeside spot to a less scenic roadside location, having been bought out by another of the countless big hotels investors put up throughout Bali seeking to cash in with some economic model that is hard to fathom under the current conditions.
Ardana, like Gusti and others we knew 15 years ago, looks no older (Balinese seem to age gracefully and live long--Ardana's father died at 95 and his grandmother just died at what he said was 120+). But it is hard to connect across cultures after all these years, separated by time and money and even size (I had forgotten he was so much shorter than us). Despite the tourist glut, Ardana has managed like many Balinese, piecing together work from his job as a teacher (really only part time work here from 8-1 six days a week, for steady pay of $200 per month plus good benefits(compared to $50 a month earned by the fish farm workers)), fish farming (raising over 100,000 fish in bamboo floating nets in the lake), and assorted small businesses attached to his losman (guide service, transportation, store, restaurant). This pays for his daughter to attend college in Denpasar, his son to go to high school in Singaraja, and his other two children, plus a recently adopted baby, to all do well.
It is always nice to be back in the mountains, where the air is cooler, the air clearer, and the scenery more varied. In between nighttime rains and morning clouds, I managed to sneak in a climb of Mt Batur, overlooking the double caldera still emanating steam although the last major eruption was in the late 1990's. Black lava flows feed the towns still alive down below (many fled the area after the huge eruptions in the early part of the 20th century) as the rich soils host an active agriculture as well as supplying sand and rock for construction projects down in the capital city of Denpasar. As the day passes, clouds swirl about the peaks, playing with shadows and light and the undulating terrain of the ancient lava flows.
We spend all day at the fancy natural hot springs (another investment scheme to make this a destination for tourist dollars)--25 meter pool, two large spring fed hot pools, manicured grounds, restaurant seating for a couple hundred, covered pavilions, lots of servants, and about 20guests total on this relatively busy day. Clouds built over the mountains, and then let lose with a deluge of rain that lasted several hours. Being in the pools, this wasn't much of a deterrent for anyone, and Koby and Manya logged over 6 hours in the water, polishing their dives and swim strokes and generally making the most of the otherwise dreary weather.

March 19 Amed
Although only maybe 40 km as the crow flies from Batur to the coast, the roads don't follow the birds, but instead wind around the hillsides, contouring mighty Ganung Agung (3000+ m. straight out of the sea) and the terraced rice paddies that hug its slopes. For 3 hours we passed rice fields and groves of trees and villages that never were home to tourists, finally arriving at the seaside where dozens of bungalows and dive shops have sprouted up in the last decade. It is still much quieter and laid back here than the more famous beaches of southern Bali (or even northern Bali where we are told the beach salespeople now outnumber tourists).
Yesterday we snorkeled off the beach right in front of our bungalows, and were amazed by the colorful fish that abound in the warm waters. I am sure this is complete amateur underwater etiquette to think that the more colorful fish are the better ones, but we all enjoyed seeing all the colors and the coral just off the shore.
Today, we dove the wreck of the USS Liberty in Tulamben. Elaine and I had stayed in Tulamben 15 years ago, when there were only two small places to stay there and only a handful of divers. Now, this is the most famous dive spot on Bali, attracting hundreds of divers during high season, and home to at least 30 or 40 at the peak time today. We fortunately were there before the bigger groups arrive from Kuta, and were able to see why this site has such a hallowed reputation. Encrusted in fan, tower and sponge coral, the shipwreck has become ahaven for fish, all shapes and sizes, including a reef shark, a bright yellow flute fish, and countless butterfly, parrot, and other colorful fish in great numbers.
Happily for all, Koby and Manya were able go on two dives as "introductory divers," which meant, essentially, them being in a 30 min crash course that covered much of the open water class, quick pool practice of the same skills as open water (removing your mask, changing regulators, and find your regulator), and then two dives on the same wreck. Surprisingly, once their instructor figured out they were comfortable underwater, they went down to almost 15 meters, which I think is officially below sanctioned limits, but seemed fine for them as they had a great time. On their second dive, they even swam inside the wreck and through tunnels, doing nicely controlling their buoyancy and acting like experienced divers (except for going through air incredibly quickly as they are a lot more active underwater than most other divers, especially Koby who was doing summersaults and such as he swam). This was a great experience for them and they are well on their way to becoming real scuba divers when they are old enough to get certification. This introductory dive program is terrific for letting you get the chance to really dive and probably can't be beat for later enrolling people in real scuba courses.

March 22 Ubud
Apparently, it is still rainy season here, as we have faced several days of downpours. Like all the guidebooks say, rainy season isn't so bad, as it only rains for a few hours at a time, and it is still so warm, you really don't mind getting wet. And since a good part of the time it was raining we were either in or under water, it hardly seems to matter (although the continual rumble of thunder in the distance can be a bit disconcerting).
Our last night--and day--in Amed featured almost constant rain, which served to confirm our plans to leave the beach, although it is always regrettable to leave tropical coral we cannot find anywhere else in our normal lives. Despite the overcast skies, I went diving one last time and although the underwater world was less vibrantly colored and less spectacular than the previous day, it was easier to appreciate the subtleties underwater--the shapes of coral, the rhythm of drifting sand, fish floating with current, the stillness of sound, the colors of individual fish. I also got to see a spotted moray eel, a reef shark, large squid, and blue spotted manta ray (in addition to a load of other colorful fish), and improved my diving skills, so this was a fine time overall, even with the imperfect weather.
Once out of the ocean water, however, the sky borne water signaled time to leave (although Koby and Manya seemed still quite happy in the pool). So we returned to Ubud, happily finally finding food stalls along the way (they have been eradicated from Ubud by the restaurant powers that be) where we got our old food favorites we ate all the time years ago.
Here in Ubud, we are wrapping up our Asian travel--last food treats, final bargain shopping, figuring out logistics. Although none of us are terribly drawn to any more souvenirs, we realize this is the last of the great bargains, and once home, we surely won't regret our mementos, so we have ventured off into the markets with some vigor, only to return later with packs more heavy, wallets just a bit lighter, and energy about worn out. But with batik dresses and fake Ray Ban sunglassesfor $2, silver earrings for 3, wood carvings for 4, and even detailed framed paintings for 20, it is easy to accumulate a fair sized collection in a hurry (particularly with the famous selling technique here of seeing what you buy in one place and then offering the same thing at an even lower price (without any more bargaining) at the stall next door). So our 4 packs of wooden animals quickly become 5, the one pair of earrings suddenly becomes 4. If one pair of shorts costs $2, then it's hard to pass up another for 1.50 that would surely cost at least 10 times as much at home. (One item we won't be getting any more of is illegally copied CDs and DVDs. In the only limitation of this burgeoning market we have seen worldwide, the police came to the very legitimate looking store which sold these (alongside the much higher priced legal versions) which led the store to miraculously remove them all from their shelves for what they tell me is 3 days (I imagine they have some arrangement with some police official that both allows them to be warned of the "raid" and to know when it is "safe" to jump back into the more nefarious trade).
In between this shopping, we managed to squeeze in another round of Batik class. Although much better informed on technique, we still have much to learn to realize the limits and possibilities of this medium. None of us will be getting rich in the art market anytime soon, but we all enjoyed the chance to look closely at color and light and composition, even if we lack the ability to use these to create what is in our mind's eye.

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Photos

Rice Paddies
Rice at all stages of the harvest

Offerings on Parade
Women's procession with offerings to the temple festival in Payangan

Temple Festival
Procession marching into temple for one of the countless temple festivals in Bali

The colors of the sky
Temple decoration for the festival light up the sky

Mt Batur in the Morning
Looking up the recent (1960s) volcanic debris on Mt Batur

Sunrise behind Mt Agung
View east from top of Mt Batur

Dance Practice
Village girl learning dance in small village of Toyabunkah

Kids Go Scuba Diving
Without an underwater camera, this is the best view we can get of their underwater adventures

Fishing boats
Beach at Amed with fishing boats docked for the day

River Rafting
The one break from 14 km of uninterupted whitewater in the 7 m wide Telaga Waja